The Myth We’re Divided - Not All of Us

For every million mundane moments in life, there are a few that are truly life changing. Moments in time that seems to hold too much goodness, too much truth, too much love, to be real. The mere memories of these moments sustain us through prolonged seasons of disappointment, heartache, or worse, apathy.

April 6th 2019 at 9:30am.

I filled my plate from the breakfast buffet line and sat at the reserved table near the stage where my parents, husband, and grandma were eating. A few minutes later, Missy and her husband Jim joined us. The emcee, Mike Donahue, kicked off the annual Mayor’s Prayer Breakfast event with a time of prayer, and eventually, an introduction of me, their guest speaker.

Public speaking is my thing. Meaning, I get paid to speak all over the country. But today was different. Today I wasn’t speaking to business professionals about developing their skills. I was speaking to my neighbors, my family, my spiritual leaders, in my town, about my heart. Although they expected me to share about founding the Don’t Give Up Movement that started in our very own front yards, I had my own agenda.

To challenge the conditions of our love, particularly in our faith communities.

I began by sharing about the inception of the first 20 yard signs that became a global movement of spreading hope and love. And yes, I shared about its profound immediate impact. But then I shared how our global movement falls short of sharing the best kind of hope; the hope in an omnipotent God who’s great love offers us second chances, clear purpose, and powerful freedom.

To share this kind of good news requires more than a hope-filled yard sign in our grass – it requires tangible, messy love. Which led me to introduce the room to my unlikely friend Missy Bird.

Although I got Missy’s blessing for what I was about to share, I shot a quick glance at her from stage. This setting was not easy for her. Years ago she would have never stepped foot in a room of religious leaders after suffering deep wounds from their judgement, alienation and shame. But today she sat beaming in her chair. Her courage stirred mine.

I explained that Missy and I were very different. She is bisexual and I am heterosexual. Missy is pro-choice. I am pro-life. Missy and I believe differently, think differently, and vote differently. And yet when her progressive community scrutinizes our friendship and calls me the enemy, she passionately defends me. Missy loves me without trying to change me.

And we should all strive to love more like Missy.

This is how we love well. This is the messy work of doing life together, outside our comfortable bubbles and echo chambers. This is how, eventually, we get to share about the hope of a loving God that frees us from shame. In genuine relationships centered on love. I said what I came to say. To challenge us to love better.

I wrapped up, grabbed my notes off the podium, and headed off stage as warm applause filled the room. But as soon as got off the stage steps and headed towards our table, Missy jumped out of her chair. She waited patiently for me to walk to my seat, where we both lunged into each other’s arms in a massive bear hug. She was weeping with joy and pride and gratitude. And that’s when the room erupted in a standing ovation.

Not for me. Not for the movement. Not for my words.

For us.

For unlikely friends. For love winning. For defeating hate. For the hard work of seeing past our differences and honoring one another. A room full of diverse people with diverse thought clapped for what’s possible – imperfect, messy love between anyone, anywhere.

It was an out-of-body experience having 250 people cheering on Missy and I’s friendship. I’m weeping right now reliving it. Hope and love felt tangible in that space and it was intoxicatingly beautiful.

But the hard truth is, if I met Missy five years ago, I would have judged her and dismissed her. I would have found nothing in common with her. I would have rolled my eyes and muted her voice in my newsfeed. But in an unforgettable divine moment in church in the fall of 2017, God told me it was time to get outside my comfortable Christian bubble. One month later, I randomly (or not) met Missy. She was not my mission or project; she was my friend. God changes hearts and brings redemption, healing, change, and the surest hope. All He asked me to do was confront the limits of my love and offer it more freely.

Since then, Missy and I have wept over our differences and found surprising common ground on divisive issues, even on abortion. We’ve ranted against nonsense on both sides of the political aisle and lamented the ways we oppress one another in our systems and thoughts. We’ve laughed through awkward conversations, studied the Bible together, cheered one another on in business ventures, and called each other out for sharing clever but hateful memes. My life is so much better with Missy (and her crazy Marco Polo messages) in it!

It’s a myth that our country is more divided than ever before. Contrary to what headlines and social media posts will make you think, there is a powerful uprising of people around this country rolling up our sleeves willing to do the hard work of confronting the limits of our love. People committed to learning from each other’s experiences; not dismissing experiences. People lamenting over each other’s wounds; not evaluating or diminishing wounds. People wrestling with differing ideas; not muting ideas. People confessing the brokenness of fallible systems; not glorifying systems. People practicing empathy in disagreement; not demonizing disagreement.

Imperfect people committed to simply loving better.

And somehow, all this nuance and hope felt encapsulated in that room, that day, that standing ovation, that bear hug, on April 6th, 2019.*

A day we were all reminded about the power of love.

*Holy crap. I just realized April 6th 2021, exactly two years later, will be the launch of my book Signs of Hope. And when you get to chapter seven, about confronting the limits and conditions of our love, you’ll read more about Missy. You’ll read our imperfect story about practicing empathy and honoring nuance. And when you do, I hope you’re challenged, like we are, to love hard and big, without limit.